Letters

Letters 07-28-14

Worry About Legals

I can’t figure out what perplexes me more, the misinformation everywhere in the media or those who believe it to be true. Take the Hobby Lobby case; as a company that is primarily owned by a religious family, they felt their First Amendment rights were infringed upon by the “Affordable” Care Act...

Stop Labeling and Enjoy

I have been struggling to find a simple way of understanding for myself the concepts of conservative, liberal, and moderation as it relates to our social interactions with each other...

Proposal One & The Public Good

Are you kidding me? Another corporate giveaway with loopholes for large corporations who rule us? Hasn’t our corrupt and worthless governor done enough to raise taxes, provide corporate welfare, unjustly tax pensions, and shut down elected officials with his emergency manager racket...

The Truth About Road Workers

Apparently Mr. Kachadurian did not catch on to the fact that the MDOT Employee Memorial in Clare is a tribute to highway workers who lost their lives building our transportation systems. It was paid for by current and former MDOT employees who likely knew some of these people personally...

Idiotic and Misguided

As a seasonal resident, I always look forward to reading your paper, if only because of the idiotic letters to the editor and off the wall columns...


Topic: body
Monday, March 26, 2012

Best Fitness Trainer

Fitness in a Different Form

Best of NM 2012 Morris started in the fitness industry in 2002 working as a trainer for Curves International. Around that time, she had lost a significant amount of weight, but she still felt like the same insecure person. At the age of 35, along with her 16-year-old daughter Adrian, Morris took her first belly dance class (Middle Eastern dance).
 
Monday, April 7, 2014

Divinely Inspired

As a Catholic schoolgirl in Dearborn, Michelle St. Amant would sit in church services, gazing on the beautiful alabaster figures of saints behind the altar.

Art Al Parker At the age of 10, a friend’s mother invited me to attend an art class at the civic center. We were each given a small lump of clay and told to create whatever we chose with it. I had been fixated on becoming a nun, so I placed my hands at work molding my shapeless mass of clay into a small version of one.
 
 
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